Meeting Rozzy Halfway by Caroline Leavitt

Author:Caroline Leavitt [Leavitt, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Meeting Rozzy Halfway
ISBN: 9781941088203
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 1980-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

The phone woke me. I peered out at my clock. Seven A.M. David never got up that early, and anyway, no matter who it was on the phone, at seven in the morning I didn’t want to talk.

Bea and Ben were always up and outside running around as soon as the sun was starring to rise, so I let the phone ring and ring, waiting for the silence to ease me back to sleep. The phone rang twenty-five times. I counted, all the while feeling the day getting hotter and muggier, the sheets changing texture and starting to stick. I finally jerked free from the bed and padded into the kitchen, wrenching the phone from the hook. I started to slam it back down, but I could hear a voice on the other end, catching me, forcing a connection between us.

“What,” I said flatly.

“Is Rozzy there?” It was a male voice, and for a moment I felt Tony’s presence coiling up inside the phone, insidious as a cobra. “Jesus,” I swore under my breath, setting the receiver down on the Formica counter and going into Rozzy’s old room.

She was curled under a red quilt, her nose poking out. Her windows were tightly shut, sealing in the hot summer air. Her velvet dress was thrown on the floor, crumpled over her toe shoes and the dust. I shook her. “Phone.” She blinked and stumbled out of bed, making her hazy way into the kitchen. She was wearing a long checkered flannel nightgown, and she wrapped her arms about herself. She grabbed blindly for the phone. “Yeah” she said, still keeping one free arm wound around her body. I got out orange juice and muffins, thinking I might as well eat breakfast, and since Rozzy was up, she might as well eat it with me.

“What? You want what?” said Rozzy. I glanced at her. She was standing very still and erect. “Yes. I guess it would be OK. Yes, yes,” she stammered and then she hung up the phone and turned to me. I waited for her to say Tony’s name, to make him real again.

“God,” she said, pushing her hair back from her shoulders. “That was Stewey. From last night. Remember, at our table? He’s working here for the summer and he wants to see me. I can’t believe that. No one like him ever wanted to see me before.” She reached for a glass of juice and dropped it, splashing the floor, tinting the tiles orange.

She looked helplessly at her hands.

“Hank did,” I said. “Hank wanted to keep seeing you.”

“No, he only thought that he did,” she said.

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